


A Definitive Trait

by wackyjacqs



Series: Bizarre Holidays [92]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 16:38:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18319175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wackyjacqs/pseuds/wackyjacqs
Summary: Their gazes clash and Jack freezes.He’s seen eyes just like those before. They are unmistakable, but with them they bring memories and emotions and baggage he isn’t prepared for.





	A Definitive Trait

**Author's Note:**

> Written for… a holiday that’ll be revealed at the end (I don’t want to spoil anything!). In my head, this takes place during season 7.

Their gazes clash and Jack freezes.

It’s their eyes.

He’s seen eyes just like those before. Years earlier.

They are unmistakable, but with them they bring memories and emotions and baggage he isn’t prepared for. He sucks in a breath and hopes his expression doesn’t betray his feelings of unease or shock.

He looks away to try and regain his equilibrium, but he soon finds himself being drawn back. Their eyes are wide and dark; full of fear and relief and confusion, and there’s a pull he feels deep inside his chest. Instinct tells him to reach out, to comfort them, but his years of military training barely wins out so he stays silent, unable to move from where he stands at the foot of the bed.

He studies the woman currently lying in the infirmary. _Really_ studies her.

The brunette hair throws him for a loop, because for reasons he _absolutely refuses_ to delve into right now, he’s always pictured… blonde. Then, there’s her eyes; dark brown with golden flecks. They glisten brightly under the harsh lights; the unshed tears revealing a catalog of horrors he can’t even begin to imagine and he swallows hard against the sudden lump in his throat. But then her lips twist ever-so-slightly and Jack feels his heart slam against his chest.

He can’t deny it – he can try – but the similarity is too striking and without even having to ask questions, _he knows._

It's just a small, lopsided grin, but it's _hers._ Identical to the one he's been on the receiving end of enough times over the years.

However, this isn’t his Carter. At least, not in that way.

He’s desperately trying not to focus on the implications of her arrival and what it does – or doesn’t – mean for him and his team, but he’s finding it difficult to maintain a professional attitude. He takes a deep breath and turns on his heel because he isn’t sure he’s ready to face the situation.

He hears General Hammond follow him into the corridor.

“Jack?”

“Sorry sir,” he murmurs. “I just – she’s –” He shakes his head and tries again. “What happened?”

“Shortly after zero-six-hundred this morning, there was an unscheduled off-world activation. Moments later, we received an IDC. It was SG-1’s.”

There’s a beat of hesitation that Jack notices but before he can say anything, Hammond continues.

“A decision was made to open the iris, and _she_ –” he emphasizes, gesturing towards the woman in the infirmary bed, “stepped through the gate.”

“She’s injured,” Jack says a moment later, his gaze flicking over his shoulder towards her.

“A staff blast to the left shoulder,” Hammond confirms.

“Has she said anything about what she’s doing here?”

“No,” he sighs. “Except for what –” Hammond stops abruptly as he reconsiders his next words. “Except for what she said to you a moment ago. It’s the first she’s spoken since she regained consciousness.”

With a frown, Jack ran a hand across his forehead.

“Colonel,” the general adds softly. “We have no idea who or what we’re dealing with here –”

“No, sir. We don’t,” he agrees, but knowing full well where this conversation is heading.

“– so, I need you to stay focused until we can gather more information.” Hammond lowers his voice further, a hand coming to rest on Jack’s shoulder. “I don’t want to have to make it an order but –”

“I’ll talk to her, sir,” he interrupts.

“And I can trust you to remain impartial?”

Jack nods distractedly as he folds his arms across his chest and looks towards the infirmary bed to find a pair of brown eyes staring back, unwavering, into his.

Her words replay over and over in his mind.

_Dad, you’re alive._

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ‘DNA Day’ (1 April).


End file.
